The Wish(33)

He tilted his head. “You sleep in your jacket?”

“It was cold last night.” When he continued to stare, I went on. “I get cold easy.”

“Oh,” he said. “My mom does, too. But…are you ready? Your aunt said to be here at nine.”

“Nine?”

“I talked to her this morning after I finished working out. She said she’d come back to the house and leave you a note.”

I guess I had heard someone in the kitchen earlier. Oops. “Oh,” I said, trying to buy time. There wasn’t a chance I’d let him come in with the way I was looking now. “I thought the note said ten.”

“Do you want me to come back at ten?”

“That might be better,” I agreed, trying not to breathe on him. For his part, he looked…well, a lot like he had the day before. Hair slightly windblown, dimples flashing. He was wearing jeans and that cool olive jacket again.

“No problem,” he said. “Until then, can you get me the stuff that your aunt Linda set out? She said it might help me get a handle on things.”

“What stuff?”

“She told me it was on the kitchen table.”

Oh yeah, I suddenly thought. That thoughtful stack on the table, for the morning kick-start.

“Hold on,” I said. “Let me check.”

I left him waiting on the porch and retreated to the kitchen. Sure enough, on top of the stack was a note from my aunt.

Good morning, Maggie,

I just spoke to Bryce and he’ll be coming by at nine to get started with you. I also photocopied the list of assignments and homework, as well as quiz and test dates. I’m hopeful he’ll be able to explain the subjects that I can’t. Have a wonderful day and I’ll see you this afternoon. Love you.

Blessings,

Aunt Linda



I reminded myself to keep my eye out for notes in the future. I was about to grab the stack when I remembered the paper I’d written. I went to the bedroom and retrieved it before scooping everything else into my arms and carrying it all to the front door, where I quickly realized my mistake.

“Bryce? Are you still here?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Can you open the door? My hands are full.”

When the door swung open, I handed him the stack. “I think this is what she set out for you. I also wrote a paper last night, so I put that on top.”

If he was surprised by the size of the pile, he didn’t show it. “Great,” he said, reaching for it. He took the stack, bobbling it slightly before rebalancing. “Do you mind if I figure this out here on the porch? Instead of going home and coming back?”

“Not at all,” I said. I really, really wished I’d brushed my teeth. “I need a little time to get ready, okay?”

“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll see you whenever. Take your time.”

After closing the door, I went straight to my bedroom to find something to wear. Quickly undressing, I pulled out my favorite jeans from the pile in the closet, but when I buttoned the top, it dug into my skin and hurt. Same thing with my second-favorite pair. Which meant I’d probably have to wear the same baggy ones I’d worn on the ferry. I sorted through my tops, but thankfully they still fit. I picked something maroon with long sleeves. For shoes, though, I didn’t have much. Sneakers, slippers, rubber boots, and Uggs. Uggs it would be.

With that decided, I showered, brushed my teeth, and dried my hair. After dabbing on some makeup, I slipped into the clothes I’d picked out. Because my aunt had been so insistent about the cleanliness thing, my room was all set, so all I really had to do was straighten the sheet, pull up the comforter, and prop Maggie-bear against the pillow. Not, of course, that I had any intention of showing him my bedroom, but if he needed to use the bathroom and peeked in, he might notice that I kept things tidy.

Not that it mattered.

I washed and dried the plate, glass, and utensils I’d used for breakfast, but other than that, the kitchen was all set. I pulled open the drapes, letting more light into the house, and taking a deep breath, went to the door.

Opening it, I saw him sitting on the front porch, legs perched on the steps.

“Oh, hey,” he said, no doubt hearing me behind him. He realigned the pile and got to his feet, then suddenly froze. He stared as though seeing me for the first time. “Wow. You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” I answered, thinking that maybe I looked all right, even if I would never be as pretty as Morgan. But even so, I felt my cheeks redden slightly. “I just threw on whatever was lying around. You ready?”

“Let me grab this stuff.”

He gathered up the stack and I stepped back so he could squeeze through the door. He stopped, no doubt wondering where to go.

“The kitchen table is fine,” I said, motioning. “That’s where I usually work.”

In those rare instances I do work, I thought. And when I wasn’t doing it in bed, which I wasn’t about to tell him.

“Perfect,” he said. In the kitchen, he set the stack on the table, pulled out the manila folder at the top, and settled in the chair I’d used for breakfast. Meanwhile, I was still thinking about what he’d said to me on the porch, and even though I’d invited him inside, the fact that he was actually at the kitchen table felt bizarre, like something you might see on television or at the movies but never expected to experience in real life.